titles don't do themselves justice
he is right behind me at the moment, and the other is off to my side. i can predict my klick-klick keyboarding becoming a flashpoint with regards to sleeping at any moment. my back is arched and hunched than i would usually agree to it becoming.
and right as we speak, my favorite transition of all on the cd i own is happening. an eagle is in my mind, and decides to evolve the background heartbeat, from the soft sliding of a body across the ground, to the beat and backbeat of his heart slowly eroding, without losing tempo.
i am fighting to retain my memories, and overcome the fear of my mock-ish presentation of this entry becoming anything aside from a subject and result of the time. the evening spent with Mehta (my new favorite name for men-- possibly without the 'h') has resulted in quite the extensive conversating (my words), and the subsequent hyper-articulation that i love to employ for a bit of padding (necessary evil).
he met a fellow outside the 7/11 who he had known ages ago, when they used to regularly duel across the oak (or simulacrum thereof) plain of a chess board. this individual was clad entirely in black: his shirt was a button up, faded shirt that probably originated ten years ago as a fancy, yet casual item purchased by one of his amigos. his pants were black faded jeans with the edges along the bottom torn, and stained a nasty shade of mud brown. he adorned himself with chains and (what i assume was) an adidas jacket (though the logo itself was missing, leaving only the three signature stripes stolen by all k-mart knockoffs). his hair was long, and had been died black most recently about 5 inches of hairgrowth ago, and the soft gradient did little to improve the visual situation.
... and as my brain began to digest this data from my eyes, i discovered he was the most perfect embodiment i've ever seen. he was the exact presentation of the concepts i've held in my mind; he was someone who was the walking abomination or animate lookup-table for everyone of my fears/doubts, with regard to my self image. he was a waking incarnation of what i didn't want "ivan" to become (both my his mind, and in the minds of everyone who knows me): some unshowering, pity-craving, counterfeit presentation of intelligence. now, hanging out with him was bad enough, as far as poor company goes (my mind was racing with analyzations of his character, reflecting on every newly discovered aspect, and noticing the verisimilitude with my projected fears). mehta, however, led me to discover a very interesting feeling, one that kiri has proclaimed many a time before: the dislike of those who act/art smarter than you. i am not convinced that meta and i have even a remotely similar manor of thinking. he seemed like someone who would be impossible to convince of who you were with words; he would have to figure you out from your actions to be content.
there are many subliminal human noises in track #7 on my BoC CD.
the noises of those upstairs are leading to me believe that the noises from the computer are probably resulting in those upstairs' state's to morph into some along the lines of "bothered by the klackity-klack," so i shall take this opportunity to depart (now that i have written everything i've wanted to remember, that i can still remember.
i will be home later today (friday). i will be in calgary tomorrow to see cirque.
and right as we speak, my favorite transition of all on the cd i own is happening. an eagle is in my mind, and decides to evolve the background heartbeat, from the soft sliding of a body across the ground, to the beat and backbeat of his heart slowly eroding, without losing tempo.
i am fighting to retain my memories, and overcome the fear of my mock-ish presentation of this entry becoming anything aside from a subject and result of the time. the evening spent with Mehta (my new favorite name for men-- possibly without the 'h') has resulted in quite the extensive conversating (my words), and the subsequent hyper-articulation that i love to employ for a bit of padding (necessary evil).
he met a fellow outside the 7/11 who he had known ages ago, when they used to regularly duel across the oak (or simulacrum thereof) plain of a chess board. this individual was clad entirely in black: his shirt was a button up, faded shirt that probably originated ten years ago as a fancy, yet casual item purchased by one of his amigos. his pants were black faded jeans with the edges along the bottom torn, and stained a nasty shade of mud brown. he adorned himself with chains and (what i assume was) an adidas jacket (though the logo itself was missing, leaving only the three signature stripes stolen by all k-mart knockoffs). his hair was long, and had been died black most recently about 5 inches of hairgrowth ago, and the soft gradient did little to improve the visual situation.
... and as my brain began to digest this data from my eyes, i discovered he was the most perfect embodiment i've ever seen. he was the exact presentation of the concepts i've held in my mind; he was someone who was the walking abomination or animate lookup-table for everyone of my fears/doubts, with regard to my self image. he was a waking incarnation of what i didn't want "ivan" to become (both my his mind, and in the minds of everyone who knows me): some unshowering, pity-craving, counterfeit presentation of intelligence. now, hanging out with him was bad enough, as far as poor company goes (my mind was racing with analyzations of his character, reflecting on every newly discovered aspect, and noticing the verisimilitude with my projected fears). mehta, however, led me to discover a very interesting feeling, one that kiri has proclaimed many a time before: the dislike of those who act/art smarter than you. i am not convinced that meta and i have even a remotely similar manor of thinking. he seemed like someone who would be impossible to convince of who you were with words; he would have to figure you out from your actions to be content.
there are many subliminal human noises in track #7 on my BoC CD.
the noises of those upstairs are leading to me believe that the noises from the computer are probably resulting in those upstairs' state's to morph into some along the lines of "bothered by the klackity-klack," so i shall take this opportunity to depart (now that i have written everything i've wanted to remember, that i can still remember.
i will be home later today (friday). i will be in calgary tomorrow to see cirque.
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